


Promises

by ceruleanshark



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mairon's abandonment issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 19:19:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17793221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleanshark/pseuds/ceruleanshark
Summary: Melkor has been distant. Mairon is curious as to why.





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Senga (modsenga)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/modsenga/gifts).



> this is for my friend Senga, because I enjoy inflicting stupid dark lord fics on her and valentine's day was a great excuse

Mairon frowned as he looked around the empty courtyard, leaning back against the stone wall and squinting against the glare of the sun on the snow. He bit back a sigh.  _ Surely he should be here by now. _

 

Melkor had agreed to meet him in the courtyard so they could spend time together, something their duties had deprived them of lately. Mairon would never admit it, but he'd been anticipating it for the past week. He'd planned it out with care, deciding where they should visit on their stroll around the grounds of Utumno. He'd woken up that morning practically glowing with excitement. However, it now seemed that Melkor had other plans, and Mairon was sitting alone on a carved stone bench in a courtyard, feeling rather foolish.

 

With a sudden movement he stood, fur cloak rippling around his legs, and marched towards the narrow door that led to the tower where Thuringwethil could most often be found. Powdered snow crunched under his boots, and the cold sunlight made the ground seem to glisten. Mairon, however, was oblivious to its beauty.

 

He climbed the winding staircase up to the top of the tower, passing narrow window-slits that let in sharp beams of light. At the top, he stepped out into the massive room beneath the peaked roof, wrinkling his nose at the musky scent of the numerous messenger bats that landed here to deliver reports. The ceiling was so high that the light from the open slats couldn't fully reach the floor, and much of the room was cast into shadow.

 

“Thuri?” He called, approaching the row of bookshelves and cabinets that surrounded the massive oaken desk where she conducted the communications of Utumno. At the sound of his voice, she stepped out from behind a massive shelf of scrolls. The inquisitive look on her face was replaced with a grin as she spotted him. 

 

“Mairon! What brings you here?” She bustled out from the labyrinth of precariously leaning shelves, elegant black dress almost sweeping over the cobblestones. She perched herself neatly on a clear spot near the edge of the desk, hands folded in her lap.

 

He leaned against a cabinet, biting his lip to keep from sighing. “Do you have time to talk?” She nodded, brow furrowing. “Yes. I know that look, Mairon. What's wrong?” 

 

He fixed his gaze on the vaulted ceiling above. “Melkor was supposed to meet me in the courtyard but he never did.” He muttered, trying and failing to keep the bitterness from his voice. Thuringwethil's bat-like ears perked up. “Oh, Mai, I'm sorry he did that. Is there a chance he just forgot? You know how our lord is.”

 

“I suppose there is.” Mairon admitted morosely. “I was merely looking forward to this. We have been busy. I have not spent time with him in far too long. We had planned this.” He scuffed the toe of one boot against the flagstones. “I apologize for complaining to you. I know how I sound.”

 

Thuringwethil leaned towards him, offering a reassuring smile. “Oh, Mai, don't be sorry. You are my friend. You can tell me anything.” Drumming her manicured nails against the desk, a pensive expression swept over her features. “If he forgot, surely he will apologize once his mistake is pointed out. Just talk to him about it.” 

 

“I think I shall, once I see him again.” A pause. “Perhaps I will speak with Gothmog as well. He may be willing to reassign some of Melkor's work so he can spend time with me.” Thuringwethil nodded. “An excellent idea. And please, if you need anyone to talk to, I'll be right here.”

 

“Thank you, Thuri.” Mairon dipped his head to her before exiting the tower, moving with determined strides towards Gothmog's office halfway across Utumno.

 

When he arrived in the broad corridor outside the chamber where Gothmog worked, he was met by the usual crush of various Umaiar and orcs waiting at the heavy doors for their turn to speak with their Captain. He was just as busy as usual, it seemed. Mairon paused behind a tall Maia with dark braids and pallid skin, unsure of whether he should wait in line or come back later.

 

He couldn’t hide the surprise on his face when the Maia half-turned, recognized him, and instantly moved out of his way, folding into a sort of bow and keeping their eyes downwards. The movement seemed to have a ripple effect on the crowd as they parted to allow a narrow path for Mairon. Many of them lowered their heads or sank to their knees in deference. A soft mutter rose up amongst them as they stared at the Lieutenant, sounding almost...awed? Speculating?

 

Mairon’s eyes widened as he gazed back at the dozens of eyes upon him, frozen in a fit of self-consciousness. He had never been greeted in such a manner in Almaren. The best he could’ve hoped for was annoyed looks and harsh whispering. In those days, someone showing him this respect would be laughable. But those days were over.

 

Shaking it off, he squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and strode through the open space with all the confidence he could muster. He pushed through the double doors and let them fall shut behind him with a muted bang. 

 

Gothmog, cloaked in the elf-like form he used from time to time, looked up from his desk, where he was conferring with one of his orc underlings. She quickly stood and escorted herself out of the room, nodding to Mairon as she passed him at the door. Mairon turned to the balrog with one eyebrow raised. He sighed and raised his hands in exasperation. “Don’t scare them like that.”

 

“I did not intend to!” Mairon protested. “I am uncertain why they react the way they do.” The balrog shook his head and gave Mairon an incredulous look. “You’re kidding, right?” Mairon hesitated, then shook his head.

 

“Mairon, you are the Lieutenant of the most powerful Vala. You practically own this place. If that wasn’t enough to intimidate them, the fact that our lord favors you would do it.” Gothmog paused. “You know what Melkor would do if he thought you weren’t being respected? He loves you.”

 

“Does he?” Mairon sighed, dropping himself into the chair vacated by the orc. Gothmog raised his eyebrows. “Mairon,  _ please _ tell me you didn’t interrupt me at work to talk about your domestic issues.”

 

“I…” The hem of Mairon’s robe burst into flame with his distress, and he stomped it out with an annoyed noise. Gothmog pulled his stack of reports towards himself protectively. “Don’t do that in here!” When Mairon just looked sad, he dropped the defensive attitude. Leaning across the desk, he took on a soft and caring tone. “Are you alright? Did something happen?”

 

“I only came by to ask you to give Melkor less work for a time. He’s been distant as of late, and I wanted to spend a day or two with him.” Mairon blushed, realizing how dumb his request sounded. He twisted at the clasp of his cloak, restless fingers curling around the metallic chain. Gothmog looked bewildered, frowning as he looked at his Lieutenant. “Mairon, I haven’t been assigning him any additional work. He’s doing the same amount he’s always done.”

 

“What?” Mairon drew back as though he had been struck. Gothmog groaned. “Oh Valar, if he’s been lying to you, I swear I’ll--” Mairon cut off what was sure to be a very descriptive revenge plot with a wave of his hand. “No, I wish to speak to him. I...thank you for helping.” He stood. “I must go.” He hurried out the door without waiting for a reply. 

 

Mairon reached the quarters he shared with his Vala shortly after leaving Gothmog’s office. He stepped through the door to find them empty, as expected. He sank down onto the bed and kicked off his boots. On any other day, he would have bothered to move them from where they fell on the carpet. 

 

He rolled onto his side and stared out through the row of massive windows framed by elaborate drapes, gazing across the mountains below Utumno. It was a view that inspired awe, but today Mairon’s heart felt too heavy to appreciate it. He closed his eyes.  _ Melkor lied to me. He has not been working. He’s been doing something else all these weeks, and he could not inform me….why? _ He tensed up at the implications of those absences. His throat felt tight, like he couldn’t continue drawing breath under the crushing weight of the realization that he may not have ever been enough for the man he loved.

 

Holding back the flames that threatened to spark to life in his hair and at his fingertips from the surge of painful emotion, Mairon craned his neck to peer up into the patches of sky visible from the windows. Judging by the steady dimming of the light, it was getting late in the day. Melkor would return during the night, he always did (albeit later and later in the past weeks). Mairon forced those thoughts down. He summoned a small sphere of white light and twisted it in his hands.

 

The feeling of warm energy bending and stretching against his fingers calmed him, allowing him to compose his wild thoughts. He adjusted his position on the bed and rolled the energy across the back of his hand, losing himself to the rhythm of flicking it back and forth. He increased its size by measures until it was almost as large as one of his palms.

 

As the sun sank, the room grew darker and darker until the only light was the orb of energy Mairon still worried at. He went over what to say over and over to himself. A direct accusation would be too confrontational, but he could not be too gentle either. He intended to learn the truth, consequences of that knowledge be damned. Despite his resolve, he was hurt. Mairon was not one to argue with his loved ones, and his pain would only further interfere with the situation. He almost hated how vulnerable love had made him. 

 

He considered every possible way to confront Melkor until the words jumbled together in his head, and still he couldn’t settle on the best way to proceed. There was still no sound of footsteps on the stairs, nothing to herald Melkor’s arrival. That was almost for the best. Mairon was unsure if he would be able to articulate himself when he saw him face to face.

 

As time wore on, Mairon’s eyes grew heavy with sleep and Melkor had made no move to return to their room. He was exhausted from the hours of worrying. His determination to make Melkor answer for his behavior overcame the wishes of his mortal form, however, and he remained resolutely awake. 

 

Some time before midnight, the door opened with a soft creak. Mairon sat bolt upright in bed, eyes that had been hazy with sleep suddenly clear. Melkor entered the room with furtive movements, ink-black cloak blending with the shadows. His attempt at stealth was obvious. Mairon scowled, then gestured towards the dark fireplace in the corner. Orange flames roared to life in the bed of wood, sending a burst of light and heat through the room and illuminating the soft snow falling past the windowpanes.

 

Melkor jolted in surprise, then turned to the Maia perched on the bed. “Mairon! I--I did not see you there.” His tone was tense. He remained in place, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His hair was unkempt and there was a spot of what looked like dirt on his cheek. He was clutching something wrapped in cloth against his chest. Mairon narrowed his eyes. “Where have you been?” Guilt flashed in Melkor’s eyes.

 

“Oh, I--” He started. A pulse of built-up anger filled Mairon and he cut him off. “You have been absent for  _ weeks! _ I spoke to Gothmog today, and he said you have no more work than usual!” He swung himself off the bed and stood before the Vala, drawing himself up to his full height. Heat flickered across his hands in waves of pale red. “You lied to me, Melkor. You have been going behind my back, and I do not know why.” His voice cracked at the last words, and he bowed his head. “What did I do wrong?” He whispered, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. He was tired, and the emotions that had been pent up for weeks threatened to overwhelm him. 

 

Melkor’s facade of the cool, collected Vala cracked in that instant. “No, oh no, Mairon. I never--I didn’t mean--” He sighed. “Damn it all. I...Mairon, I am so sorry.” He shifted the bundle in his arms, eyes wide. “I never meant for it to take this long, my love. I should have told you.”

 

“Meant for  _ what _ to take this long? What are you doing?” Mairon asked, voice borderlining hysterical. He dropped back onto the edge of the bed and rested his forehead in his hands, fingers knotted in his hair. He squeezed his eyes shut, as though that would block out the twisted feeling in his gut.

 

The mattress dipped as Melkor sat down beside him. “This will sound...foolish, but allow me to explain.” When Mairon didn’t respond, Melkor laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Please.” Mairon sighed and rubbed tiny circles against his temples. “Alright.” He conceded, still refusing to look at the man beside him. Melkor took a moment, seeming to steel himself, and then began to speak.

 

“I have been in the forges. I wanted to learn. I wanted to work metal and gems alongside you.” When Mairon drew breath to speak, Melkor tightened his grip on his shoulder. “I know you could have taught me, and there were times when I was tempted to ask. But I wanted to learn on my own, for you. So we could work in the forge together and you would not have to tolerate my inexperienced fumbling.”

 

“You...did that? For me?” Mairon dared to peek out from behind his hands. One look at the genuine warmth in his eyes was enough to ease the panic that had been building in him for the past weeks. Melkor nodded, looking almost bashful. With a jolt, Mairon realized he was blushing. “Yes. We have shared so many discussions about your forgework, and it is clear to all that you have a passion for it. Since you love it, I wanted to learn how. I wanted this to be something I can share with you.”

 

“How did I avoid seeing you if you were in the forges?” Mairon asked, cocking his head. Melkor smiled. “Ever logical, I see. Do you remember when I told you I was commissioning a new wing of the forge?” Mairon nodded. “That has been completed. I worked there. And I was not spending  _ all _ my time in the forge.”

 

“Were you not?” Mairon commented dryly. Melkor shook his head. “I was out in the wilds for some of that time. I was looking for...components.” The Maia sat up straight, frowning in confusion. “For what?”

 

He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “I wanted to make something for you. I could have created it via Song or had it forged by our underlings, but I wanted it to be special.” He picked up the bundle of cloth from where it lay beside him on the bed. Tugging the white fabric off, he presented the object within to the Maia.

 

Mairon’s eyes widened. Among the pools of pale cloth was a band of iron the color of a midnight sky. Parts of it twisted up into delicate spikes, entangled in a delicate pattern at their bases before thrusting up into sharp points, arrayed with the shortest flanking the tallest. Caught up in the intricate curls of metal were four small gems, each one the color of a new flame. They shimmered with a soft light against the metal. The fifth gem was brighter than the rest and was set high up on the central spike.

 

“You are my foremost Maia and you rule our people beside me. A Lieutenant as brilliant as you deserves a crown.” Melkor explained, voice soft and low. Mairon’s lips parted in awe as he ran his hands over the elegantly wrought iron. His fingertips brushed over Melkor’s hands, as cold as the metal and yet somehow welcoming.

 

“I...this is incredible, Melkor.” Mairon whispered. He bowed his head. “It means nothing if I have hurt you. I am so sorry, my love. I should have thought more about how it affected you.” He folded his hands over Mairon’s. “You are what matters here.”

 

Mairon finally met his gaze. “It was confusing and it hurt, yes, but it’s all right now. Just promise me not to do that again.” He smiled up at the Vala. Melkor’s eyes sparked with relief, and his fëa pressed against Mairon’s with a surge of affection, powerful and yet feather-light. “I will not. I promise you, little flame.”

 

He picked up the crown from where it sat between them and lowered it onto Mairon’s head, movement slow and reverent. “You are stunning, my love.” His voice was a little breathless as he took in the sight of his Lieutenant. Mairon stood and paced around the bed to gaze at his reflection in the windows. His form wavered in the dark glass, the crown standing out against the red of his hair and the gems glittering in the light from the fireplace. Despite his casual robe, the crown made him look regal. He subconsciously squared his shoulders, and Melkor let out an affectionate chuckle at the sight. “It suits you.”

 

Joining Mairon in front of the window, Melkor wrapped his arms around him and kissed the back of his head, careful to avoid the band of the crown. “I did not consider how my actions would harm you. It was my mistake. I will never leave you like that again.” He held Mairon against his chest, gentle despite all the strength in his arms.

 

“You had good intentions. Just...never again.” Mairon relaxed, the last of his anxieties draining away. Melkor entwined their fear, allowing his presence to calm him. “Never again. You have my word.” There was a pause, the pair alone in their chambers, the only sounds the faint wailing of wind against the windows and the crackle of the fire. The mountains were beautiful even in the dark, cold peaks illuminated by the glow of the moon high above. They were warm and comfortable in each other’s arms with their fëar coiled together, despite the cold of the northern night.

 

“Mairon, I love you. You have come so far since Almaren. All of Utumno can see it. You are incredible. You are the best thing in my life.” Melkor’s reverence was obvious in his voice. “I am truly sorry.” 

 

“Have I truly changed that much?” He whispered, almost to himself. Melkor made a soft noise of affirmation. “You are coming into your own.” He gestured towards Mairon’s reflection in the glass. “This, here, is what Aule tried to hold back. You are skilled and strong, a leader in your own right. Do you not see how the others treat you? They defer to you, look to you for guidance, and that is not due to my influence.”

 

Mairon smiled. “Are you certain of that? You are, after all, the strongest Vala, the one who defied Eru.” Melkor rested his chin on Mairon’s head, just behind the crown. “Perhaps initially, but now you could hold your position alone. I did not shape you into who you are now. I merely gave you a place where you could hone your talents. If anything,  _ I _ am in debt to  _ you _ . You showed me that I can still feel, that I do not have to be the monster they say I am. I adore you.”

 

Half-turning in Melkor’s arms, Mairon leaned up to kiss him. “I love you, Melkor.” A pause. “However, some things about me have not changed since Almaren. I still find joy in the fires of the forge.” He tilted his head as he adjusted his position to look up at the Vala, seeing his own love mirrored in those eyes. “I have wanted a forge partner as of late. Having you in that role is a greater blessing than I could have imagined. In the morning you must show me what you have learned.” 

 

“Anything for you.” Melkor reached down to take his hand. “I take it my skills are not  _ too _ terrible, seeing as I made the crown and you seem to enjoy it well enough.” Mairon laughed. “That I do. I...could get used to this. Being your Lieutenant, working at your side. It is unusual still for me to be treated like this, but it is not unenjoyable.”

 

Melkor’s answering smile made him feel warm all over. “You have no clue how it gladdens me to see you like this.” He lead Mairon over towards the plush seats by the window with slow steps, their reflections shivering in the glass over the dark backdrop. They made a regal pair, Mairon thought, even with himself in a plain robe and Melkor disheveled from a day of forgework. 

 

“You look the part of my Lieutenant.” Melkor rumbled, as though reading Mairon’s thoughts. The Maia let out a contented hum. “I may be that, but I am a Maia of the forge as well. And when the morning comes,” He turned to kiss Melkor on the cheek, stretching up on his toes to reach. “I will finally have one who will work alongside me. We will create wonders, you and I, better than anything we could hope to accomplish alone.” He paused once more. “Just as we shall achieve with our kingdom.”

**Author's Note:**

> stupid valentine's day fics? on MY profile? it's more likely than you think.


End file.
